


la vie en costume

by melonkollie



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Lingerie, M/M, Porn, Porn with Feelings, Shenanigans, Stockings, Underwear Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-15 22:48:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5803309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melonkollie/pseuds/melonkollie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"This is <i>exactly</i> what it looks like."</p>
            </blockquote>





	la vie en costume

**Author's Note:**

> this excellent human being drew [deacon in thigh-high stockings](http://allmyvault.tumblr.com/post/137202616946/allmyvault-every-fallout-companion-in-thigh) and oh oh oops my hand slipped

Deacon is changing clothes when Nate walks through the doorway, which is far from unusual in and of itself. He's got disguises, suits, jackets, hats, all manner of accouterments and paraphernalia stashed at each safe house and almost every known supply cache in between—even has his own bureau set aside here in Nate's shack at Mercer.

Except—

"This is _exactly_ what it looks like," Deacon informs him, unreadable, suspended mid-motion as if one wrong move might trigger some invisible trap.

Nate doesn't think he's seen this getup before, though "getup" might be too strong a term; there's not exactly much to it at the moment. He isn't wearing a shirt. Or any shoes. Or pants, for that matter.

"Are you, um," Nate starts, pauses, tries again, "Which outfit is this?"

"What, this old thing?" says Deacon. "Just a little something I had lying around." His fingers go slack, pulling away, revealing elaborate black lace; he hooks his thumbs as they slide from inside, causing inlaid elastic to _snap_ against his thigh.

Nate blinks, eyeing him up in a such a way that might suggest Deacon _could_ be being just the tiniest bit objectified. There's a small hole in the toe of one stocking, and a run going up the inner thigh of the other, almost to the very edge where black lace meets pale skin. Above that is—"Is that a thong?"

It is.

"What do you think, boss? Not my color? Makes my ass look big?" Deacon twists, wriggling a bit for demonstration, and _oh_.

Fuck.

Alright, then.

Nate checks to make sure the door is shut behind him, sliding the lock into place. He crosses the room in three long strides and pushes Deacon onto the bed, following him down, climbing on top of him before he can settle and kissing him for all that he's worth, which, okay—is easily more than both of their combined weights in gold.

No secrets here; Nate's got it bad.

Deacon's mouth opens lazily, tongue curling against Nate's own as if trying to reel him in and hold him. He says, "Oh my, agent," once they break for breath, and, "Are you trying to seduce me?"

"I could ask you the same thing," says Nate, and slides a hand towards Deacon's erection to palm him through the fabric in evidence. Deacon smirks, arching into it.

"Alright, yeah, you caught me there. Mmm." His hips tilt upward in a bid for more friction. "So this is how they did it in the movies, right?"

He's still wearing his sunglasses; Nate's never been presumptuous enough to try and remove them without prompt. Instead he lays kisses across Deacon's temple, over his jawline and onto his neck, suckling gently to avoid leaving marks.

"Close enough," he agrees, catching his arms beneath Deacon's knees to haul him the rest of the way up the mattress.

Nate finds himself wondering which sorts of movies they might be referring to though, as his fingers rub speculatively against the nylon, feeling coarse hair shift underneath. He tries and fails to imagine how absurd this would be if it wasn't so ridiculously  _hot,_ nuzzling along the exposed inner thigh. "Where do you even find these things?"

"A lady never tells."

"No offense," Nate says, mouthing the gap between silk underwear and lace, "but I don't think 'lady' is a term I'd ever use to describe you."

"Hey, now, I was a lady. Once. Haven't I told you that story before?" Deacon digs a stocking-covered heel into Nate's shoulder, who in turn absently hums, having long since moved to more pressing matters.

Licking a stripe along Deacon's groin earns him a full-body shudder and bow, so of course he does it again on the other side, punctuated by a scrape of teeth for good measure. When he wraps his lips around Deacon's cock—still encased in thin lingerie—he is awarded with an appreciative moan.

Nate makes an indulgent game of the endeavor, teasing, licking and pulling at the fabric until it's damp and Deacon is panting, straining hard against him.

"These are really nice and all," Nate suggests at last, smiling, "but I think they may be getting in the way a bit, don't you?"

"Really? I hadn't noticed," is Deacon's decidedly shaky reply.

Deacon rolls them both over as soon as he's divested of the garment, grinding his hips against Nate's with a vengeance. "So you're absolutely sure you're not taking advantage? Because, you could. I'd probably let you."

"Wouldn't dream of it," murmurs Nate, and Deacon is grinning quantum-bright as he bends down to bite Nate's ear. He takes it upon himself to unbutton Nate's pants, pushing them down just enough for convenience, grabbing Nate's dick with a spit-slick hand. A few practiced, calculated strokes have Nate tossing his head into the pillow, and it's almost enough to distract him from Deacon moving forward and—

"What the _fuck_ , Deacon—" Nate chokes, eyes wide, fingers scrabbling at Deacon's back as he slides down Nate's cock with _zero_ preamble, and it's good, it's so good, but, "Shit, what the _fuck_."

Deacon is trembling ever-so slightly, and Nate tries his best not to move, even though it's hard because Deacon is warm and very tight and very much _slick_ with something down there.

"Hey, hey, you okay?" Nate asks, unsteady hands smoothing up and down Deacon's sides. "Deacon?"

"A-okay, wonderful, peachy keen. Just—give me a minute, yeah?" Deacon shifts in his lap, licking his lips. He peers up at Nate over the tops of his sunglasses, wearing a crooked—but genuine—smile. "Surprise."

Nate is equal parts bemused and unbelievably turned on.

"All part of the ensemble, my friend. Key to any successful performance," explains Deacon as he adjusts himself, "always lies in the details. S'what gives it that final touch, authenticity, really sells it to the audience."

"Are you telling me," Nate says slowly, "that if I had walked in here, just a few minutes earlier, I would have caught you with your fingers up your ass? Stretching yourself open, covered in lube?" He can't help it; he's twitching a little. "Where would you even _get_ —"

"A magician never reveals his secrets."

"Right. Of course," says Nate, "and a lady never tells."

"You're learning—I'm so proud."

Deacon moves, balanced on Nate's shoulders, experimentally at first before leaning back onto his heels and falling into a rhythm. Nate would concede at this point that he's totally lost control of the situation, except he's smart enough to realize he never had it to begin with.

He's at a loss for what to do with his hands, running them across Deacon's stomach, legs, hips, fisting his cock for a time before Deacon bats him away. He settles for clutching the trim of the tights, bites his lip and hangs on for the ride.

When he comes—quivering, bucking under Deacon, who is pleasuring himself at a steady pace as though he has all the time in the world—he thinks he probably says something embarrassing. But Deacon just looks at him and laughs, breathless, which transitions to a satisfied groan as he finishes across Nate's chest.

So, yeah. That's alright.

Deacon collapses beside him, tugging at his sweaty hair and latching their mouths together, and it's messy, unorthodox, and utterly perfect—which is far from unusual, so far as this goes.


End file.
